The Singing Pathologist
by Lady Dudley
Summary: Has been done before, I'm sure, but this is my version - Sherlock and John walk in on Molly singing in the lab. Post TRF. Bit fluffy.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I was listening to Adele's 19 Album (henceforward known as the Sherlolly Album, much like 21 is the Paric Album) and was inspired. The songs quoted are 'Daydreamer' and 'Best For Last.' The song in the next chapter is Steven Curtis Chapman's 'Your Side Of The World.' Hope you enjoy :)  
**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

_**The Singing Pathologist**_

_A jaw dropper  
Looks good when he walks  
Is the subject of their talk  
He would be hard to chase  
But good to catch  
And he could change the world  
With his hands behind his back, oh_

Molly Hooper smiled to herself as she caught the words that always made her think of Sherlock.

Actually, the whole song reminded her of him; even though she was reasonably sure that he'd never do anything as…_irrelevant_ as daydreaming.

She hummed along with the last few bars of the song as she finished her paperwork. Sherlock hated the distraction of music when he was working, but she rather liked having the background noise when she was alone.

Her face split into an involuntary grin as the next track came on.

She'd heard many songs in the past that seemed to have been written about her feelings for the world's only consulting detective, but Adele's 'Best For Last' was just…_perfect._

It said everything she ever wanted to say and even had words she could imagine him saying in return.

Absently she turned the song up and started to sing along, unaware that she now had an audience.

_And I think I know that things may never change  
But I'm still hoping I might hear you say  
I make you feel you feel a way you've never felt before  
And I'm all that you need and that you'd never want more  
Then you'd say all of the right things, without a clue  
But you'd save the best for last like I'm the one for you_

At first John Watson felt incredibly awkward walking in on the singing pathologist, especially when she seemed to be singing from the heart. He had intended to usher the unaccountably silent Sherlock out of the morgue when Molly's posture and voice had suddenly changed.

John found himself torn between fascination and amusement as Molly continued to sing; doing a passable interpretation of Sherlock's imperious attitude.

_You should know that you're just a temporary fix  
This is not rooted with you  
It doesn't mean that much to me  
You're just a filler in the space  
That happened to be free  
How dare you think you'd get away  
With trying to play me_

John's amusement faded as Molly's shoulders slumped and she continued to sing along in more subdued tones.

_But, despite the truth that I know  
I find it hard to let go  
And give up on you  
Seems I love the things you do  
Like the meaner you treat me  
More eager I am  
To persist with this heartbreak…_

John and Molly both jumped as the doors to the morgue slammed behind Sherlock as he abruptly left the room.

Molly turned tentatively around, blushing furiously, to find John standing awkwardly behind her, also turning an interesting shade of red.

Molly bit her lip as she realised what that meant.

Sherlock had seen.

Sherlock _knew_.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been two weeks since the awkward singing incident and Molly hadn't seen John or Sherlock in all that time.

Molly chewed her lip thoughtfully as she considered this fact.

Objectively she knew that it most likely had nothing to do with what they had witnessed, at least not on Sherlock's part. She was perfectly aware that he must have known how she felt before that incident and was unlikely to be affected by the knowledge now.

Subjectively, on the other hand, she was incredibly embarrassed and hated the fact that she could no longer pretend that he didn't know. She knew he could deduce everything about her with a glance, but she'd liked to pretend that he hadn't known _that._

It made life so much easier believing him oblivious rather than completely indifferent.

She sighed as she eyed the nearby iPod dock; suddenly finding the silence oppressive she reached over and did something she hadn't done in the past fortnight.

She pressed 'play.'

Music immediately filled the room and she frowned, this wasn't a song she recognised. Stopping the track she picked up her iPod and skimmed through its contents.

She nearly died: someone had tampered with it.

There was only one person she knew who would have the audacity to do such a thing; silently she thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't named any of her playlists.

_That_ would have been completely mortifying.

She frowned as she realised all her playlists were missing; in fact, she couldn't find any of her music.

He'd _deleted_ all of her music.

She was going to kill him; standing abruptly in order to go and do just that (work shifts be damned!) she paused as she realised this wasn't her iPod at all.

Her curiosity piqued she sank back into her seat and, upon replacing it in the dock, pressed 'resume.'

After a brief introduction a man's voice started to sing, Molly felt her eyes widen as she began to listen to the unfamiliar tune.

_So here we are standing face to face  
And yet we seem a million miles apart  
This world can feel like such a lonely place  
It all depends on what you see from where you are  
So please, please, tell me what you can_

_'Cause I want to understand  
How does it look from your side?  
How does it look from where you are?  
How does it look from your side,  
From your side of the world?_

_So tell me the color of the sky above  
Paint me a picture of the things that make you smile  
Show me your fears and what you're dreaming of  
Take me where my heart can see across the miles  
And please, please, tell me that you can_

_'Cause I want to understand  
How does it look from your side?  
How does it look from where you are?  
How does it look from your side,  
From your side of the world?_

_Don't be surprised to find that I'm not too far away  
'Cause what we're both in search of one and the same  
So please, please, tell me what you see  
'Cause I really want to be the one who understands..._

As the last notes of the song faded Molly wondered if she was in shock.

_What the hell was _that?

She stopped the music and picked up the iPod again, this time examining it closely for clues. Maybe she was wrong, maybe Sherlock hadn't been the one to replace her iPod after all.

She ignored the shiver of fear that ran down her spine at the thought that someone other than Sherlock had tampered with her possessions. Instead, she reminded herself that he was the only who would dare and that she should be angry with him.

No matter how sweet he seemed to be trying to be.

If he could be believed.

She glared at the offending piece of technology, wondering idly if this was some warped experiment.


	3. Chapter 3

Molly Hooper was not reacting as expected.

After listening to her awkward and inadequate – but still somehow enchanting – attempt to emulate him, he'd been suddenly struck by how much had changed and yet had stayed the same since his return from the dead.

He'd always been aware that Molly was attracted to him, but it wasn't until that awful Christmas party that he'd realized just how deep that attraction ran.

He'd always been aware that her help was often invaluable to his cases; but it wasn't until she'd told him she didn't count that he realized it wasn't her work that was invaluable, it was _her._

This particular revelation had been unexpected and he'd spent much longer than he cared to admit attempting to unravel the mystery that was Molly Hooper's importance to him.

Then he and John had walked in on her singing and somehow it had…_hurt_.

He'd hoped that his telling her that she counted would mean something; that putting his life in her hands would prove how much he trusted her. Instead he found that she still doubted her importance to him.

Upon reflection, however, he'd decided that maybe she was simply unaware that she counted in quite a different way to the other people in his life.

That had been when he'd come up with the idea of answering her song with one of his own.

After hours of painstaking research, hampered slightly by John's attempts to engage him in conversation about what had happened; he'd found the right song. It had then been relatively easy to swap her iPod with a replacement – modified so that he'd know when she'd listened to it, naturally – and he had then settled down to wait.

That had been when his carefully constructed plan had begun to unravel.

Firstly, she must have been more embarrassed than John had led him to believe as it took her much longer than he expected to play music at the lab once more.

Her turning it off after only listening to the first two opening bars had made him panic momentarily, but then she had resumed listening and he'd relaxed.

He'd then expected her to show up outside his apartment, either demanding an explanation for the song or his audacity in tampering with her possessions.

Explanations he was quite willing to give; only she hadn't come.

He'd long ago memorized her new work schedule, so he knew that she should be well and truly finished at St. Bart's by now. He frowned as he went over his plan in his mind, testing it for flaws.

He sighed heavily as he realized he hadn't taken the human element to his plan into proper account: Molly.

He should have considered that she had to unnerving ability to surprise him at crucial moments.

He was striding out the door in the next moment, ignoring John's surprised "Where are you off to?" and slamming the door behind him.

It wasn't until he was standing outside the door to her apartment that he realized he had no idea how to precede. He squared his shoulders, deciding that regardless of whether he had a plan or not, it would be ridiculous to just stare at her door all night, and knocked on her door.

No response.

He tried again, still nothing.

His brow creased in confusion; surely she would be home by now?

His heart constricted at the thought that something might have happened to her and he turned on his heel, intent on finding her, only to come face to face with the woman in question.

"Um, hello," she greeted him, ducking her head and unlocking her door.

"Molly," he replied by way of greeting, cringing slightly at how formal he sounded as he followed her inside.

After setting her bag and keys aside, Molly took a seat, indicating for him to do likewise.

"I liked the song," Molly said, breaking the awkward silence, "care to tell me what it meant?" she added.

Sherlock studied her for a long moment, reading her feelings as easily as he would a book, although he deemed it better not to comment on them considering how hard she was trying to hide them.

He'd learnt a lot about himself in his time away, specifically that he never wanted to intentionally, or even unintentionally, hurt her again.

He cleared his throat and she looked up at him expectantly, "That depends on you," he said levelly.

He stifled a smirk as she quirked an eyebrow, one of the many habits she had picked up from him over the years without realizing.

"I can not make speeches, Molly," he continued, "the song was merely a device for me to disclose my intentions to understand you better," he paused, "how well I come to understand you is entirely up to you."

Molly fought back the impulse to ask him who he was and what he'd done with the real Sherlock Holmes as what he said sank in.

She'd noticed that he had been different around her since his return, but she hadn't thought the change was because he might _feel_ something in return and want to be with her in any way she felt comfortable with.

It all seemed too good to be true.

Perhaps it was; he still hadn't said what she wanted – needed – to hear.

"Amazing," she said eventually, "even when you say it you _don't_ say it." She caught his confused look, "I don't need speeches, Sherlock, I just…need to know."

If anything his confusion seemed to deepen, but she knew he would work it out eventually so she waited.

She didn't have to wait long.

"You count," he began seriously; "you count much more than you realize, much more than _I_ realized."

He stopped, gathering his thoughts and Molly bit her lip; desperate for him to just come out and say it, but not wanting to push him.

"Molly Hooper," he continued, his eyes boring intently into hers "I think I'm in love with you." He paused, "I _know_ I'm in love with you," he corrected himself.

Molly felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she smiled; hugging his words close to her heart.

"Surely you don't need my answer," she teased when she realized he was waiting for her to say something.

"No," he agreed, "but I would like to hear it all the same."

Molly's smile dampened as she saw the insecurity she'd felt only moments before echoed in his startlingly blue eyes.

"Why Mr. Holmes," she began, her tone still holding a hint of teasing, "surely you know by now that I absolutely adore you."

She barely had time to register his movement before she found herself crushed against him as he kissed her senseless.

It was her first lesson in just how wrong everyone was about his 'repressed' nature.

...

**A/N: If you think some of Sherlock's 'speech' sounds familiar that's because I used elements of it in**** 'Stuck On You.' Elements that were borrowed from _Emma_ and the 'I absolutely adore you' line is from _An Ideal Husband. _Hope this wasn't too OOC, I just needed to get it out ;)**


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